


Much Sorry. Wrong Planet.

by DarkeAngelus



Category: Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-Force (Comics), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: 1980s, Alternate Universe, Angst, Bad Hunting Choice, Blood and Gore, Gen, Humor, Identity Issues, Post-X-Men: Apocalypse (2016), RIP Socks, Suicidal Thoughts, Teenagers, continuity, mohawk, movieverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 11:12:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11057757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkeAngelus/pseuds/DarkeAngelus
Summary: In the Marvel Comics, Shatterstar appeared in the Danger Room hoping to recruit the X-Men to defeat Mojo V on his home world. Instead, he found Cable along with a bunch of unknown mutants and joined them to become the paramilitary group known as X-Force.The events of the movie “X-Men: Days of Future Past” changed everything that happened after 1973. As a result, the time stream was fractured and Shatterstar was sent to the Marvel Cinematic Universe in error, one month after the events of “X-Men: Apocalypse”. Things deteriorate rapidly when Mojo’s forces unexpectedly show up and a young mutant named Rictor joins the fray.





	Much Sorry. Wrong Planet.

 

 

The stone marker in the garden was small and the words were succinct: 

Alex Summers

Havok

Gone Too Soon 

Less than a month after Magneto and Jean Grey rebuilt Xavier’s Institute, Hank McCoy was already petitioning the CIA for another decommissioned SR-71 Blackbird. He felt more than a little guilty doing it. If it hadn’t been for the experimental engine he’d been designing for the last one, Alex wouldn’t have caused the massive damage that had destroyed the estate, killing him in the process. It would be easy to pin the blame on En Sabah Nur. If not for the ancient mutant’s trespass and subsequent kidnapping of Professor X, Alex wouldn’t have powered up and attacked him and his assemblage of Horsemen. His energy disks always had been wildly unpredictable and his aim never a surety unless he was wearing his suit which had converted the energy into concentrated blasts. Add in the volatile jet fuel that Hank had been working on... Well, the crater created in the wake of that conflagration more than summed up the damage. Xavier’s Institute had been completely lost and, if not for Quicksilver, there would have been far more than just one loss of life. 

When excavation of the ruins took place after the battle in Egypt, Scott found no sign of his brother. It appeared that Havok had been completely obliterated. There was this token memorial in the backyard erected in the mutant’s memory. Scott grieved but, with a maturity that went beyond his young years, he rallied quickly. The diversion of his blossoming relationship with Jean Grey was one of the reasons. The formation of this strange, new group called “The X-Men” was another. The present roster was considered the second incarnation of the original Division X. There were two grim reminders of Xavier and Lehnsherr’s first attempt marked by two older weather-worn markers placed a short distance away: 

Armando Muñoz

Darwin

 

Angel Salvadore

Tempest 

Both had been original recruits and, even though Angel had been swayed to join Magneto’s side after the Cuban fiasco, her death and mutilation at the hands of Project WideAwake earned her place here. Hank mused sadly that there probably wasn’t enough land on Xavier’s estate to set markers in honor of mutants who had met horrific ends over the countless years. And the estate boasted _hectares_. They had to focus on the living. He sighed and turned away from the solemn sight and went to do exactly that. 

Some of the students had gone home after William Stryker’s attack, but not many. The majority stayed and moved back in after the rebuilding. As stability returned and a back-up for Cerebro was made operational, the Institute was already almost back to full capacity. Hank wondered if there was something in the mutant genome that seemed particularly adaptable to events that would seriously damage the psyche of a non-powered child. He reasoned it was probable as a make-shift survival instinct and put it on his (extra long) list of things to research further. 

As he entered through the atrium in the back, he did the rounds with the students, asking and answering questions, and finally went below ground to see how the rest of the team were doing. It was one thing to assemble a select group of mutants who would voluntarily face danger; it was another thing to make them work together successfully as a cohesive unit. One month in, they were still struggling with that. 

The group was quite an odd collection if ever there was one. Mystique had ceased her vigilante efforts years ago to directly aid mutants and now stayed at the mansion to act as the group’s leader and trainer. She wasn’t a notable team player so this association marked as much a learning curve for her as well as for the others. Hank liked to tell himself he supervised the training sessions just in case she lost her temper but knew it was more than just that. He was falling in love with her. 

Nightcrawler was so pathetically grateful just to belong _somewhere_ where he wasn’t being jeered or ridiculed that he followed orders without argument. He was also the team’s morale booster. He had a charismatic personality that naturally swayed people initially caught off guard by his striking appearance and, among the reserved, emotionally repressed group that included Jean Grey and Scott, his jokes and good humor went a long way to cementing the team as friends as well as allies. 

Quicksilver was rebounding from his injuries in Egypt and his usually easy-going nature had been soured by his encounter with Magneto. To say he had been disappointed in his father’s conduct as a Horseman was an understatement and the chief reason he hadn’t come forward to reveal his identity as the man’s son. Complicating matters was his right leg which had been badly broken in the battle. The thigh-high cast had come off a few days ago and he was visibly discouraged to find that he was out of shape and not nearly as fast as he had been. He was overcompensating for the lapse and the constant pain made him irritable. 

Struggling with American life, Storm was finding the culture gap almost as big a challenge as the boost Apocalypse had given to her powers. She had easily used small winds and static shocks as diversions during her thieving days in Cairo. She now had tornadoes and lightening at her command and was having trouble compensating for the devastating upgrade. More than once, she’d singlehandedly shorted out the Danger Room’s training matrix in the middle of a simulation. 

Given all these unexpected variables, it was small wonder that Hank McCoy chose to monitor them during training sessions. Professor Xavier was always available to come at a moment’s notice if things turned ugly, but wanted the younger mutants to rely on themselves as much as possible. He wasn’t physically obvious to the group, though he timed his classes around the team’s training so that he _could_ monitor them psychically. Of them all, only Jean was the one who noticed. 

Hank pulled on a spandex variant of the heavy-leather suits used for combat and entered the room in time to hear the end of; “-None of that matters. You’re not kids anymore. Not students. You’re X-Men.” 

Quicksilver rolled his eyes behind his goggles and Hank applauded as he walked to his station in the corner that controlled the Danger room simulations. “You’re going to have to change that patented speech to something new, Raven.” 

“Mystique,” she corrected, glaring at him. “We’re on the clock.” 

“Beast’s right.” Quicksilver said. “We need something with some more pizzazz. Maybe a theme song. Men at Work just released this great single and-” 

“We’re not piping in music while training.” Mystique leaned over Hank’s shoulder to view what he was inputting and, despite his human form and the fact his senses were muted, he realized he could still smell her and it was heavenly. He deliberately pressed his crotch into the cool metal of the console. “Trying to stay focused to dodge attacks is hard enough without trying to do it to music.” 

“Aw, and here I thought you’d like _Maneater_.” The speedster snickered. “Seriously, what about _Eye of the Tiger_? That has a dope beat.” 

“I’ve not heard zat one.” Kurt told him. 

“C’mon to my room after practice. I got some John Cougar that’s awesome.” 

Storm sighed. “None of your music makes much sense to me.” 

Quicksilver was immediately by her side, one arm around her shoulder. “You can come, too. We’ll make it a party.” He flashed her his patented grin and waggled his eyebrows for emphasis.

“X-Men assemble!” Mystique barked. At the curious looks her outburst created, she offered a lame shrug, “I’m trying something new. Okay?” 

“That’s... no. That’s _hella_ lame.” Peter laughed. “Points for effort, though.” 

Practically able to see the smoke rising from Raven’s svelte frame, Hank interrupted with, “I don’t want to use Sentinels this go-around. I’ve designed schematics for a new maze so we can utilize our other senses instead.” 

“Nononono. No.” Peter rapidly shook his head. “I’m not going to be the bird against a window in this drill. I need something that involves _speed_.” 

Beast fixed him with a patient glance over the rim of his glasses. “You’ve been out running all morning. Now’s the time to work on subtlety and give your leg a rest.” 

Just as the grey-haired mutant was about to argue, there was a pop and fizzle sound and, at first, all eyes turned to Nightcrawler. “Zat vasn’t me.” He said, looking embarrassed. In close quarters, his teleportation made everyone choke on the stark smell of sulfur and often came with some rather unique sound effects. 

“Just to be clear, we’re not hearing things. I'm sensing static-” Storm threw her arm up as there was a buzz _-SNAP!_ and an explosion of light in the center of the room. Hank immediately transformed into his huge, furred shape and quickly joined the group. He immediately sent out a summons to Xavier even as the undercurrent to his thoughts was; _It’s too soon. We’re not ready. I don’t want to lose any others_. 

The silhouette of something or someone appeared as a backdrop against the glare and didn’t so much as step out of the center of the color-burst as fall to the ground. When the light show receded, it revealed a very tall, muscular man dressed in a peculiar white and grey costume, complete with padded helmet, shoulder guard and a shortened half-cape. He was holding a white broad sword in either hand. Add in his long red pony tail and Hank immediately thought of the gladiator movies he’d watched as a kid. This wasn’t some prehistoric cosplay but a futuristic variant of the base design. It looked flashy but efficient. 

The man staggered to his feet, holding the weapons in a defensive “X” in front of him as he collected his bearings. The helmet made deciphering his features nearly impossible but it looked like there was something wrong with his left eye. _Maybe not wrong_ , McCoy corrected in his mind, _just different._ It was outlined with some black design. 

“X-Men?” The figure rasped, still out of breath from the shocking nature of his appearance. “Xavier? Earth, bai?” 

Mystique and the others looked at each other in confusion and the man shouted out in frustration: “X-Men! Bai or nai?” 

“Calm down.” Hank said, spreading his hands and holding them palms up to indicate he meant no harm. “You’re at Xavier’s institute and we’re the X-Men. Who are you?” 

Ignoring the question, the costumed figure regarded him closely and his left eye flashed. “No recognize.” He turned to Kurt and released a soft grunt. “Nightcrawler, bai? Cyclops. Grey Jeans. Storm.” He frowned as he regarded them. 

“What the hell is going on?” Scott murmured under his breath to anybody within earshot. 

Wide-eyed, Kurt could only shrug. He appeared stunned that there was now someone in the room whose accent was thicker than his. 

Jean was mentally calling for the professor at the same time she took a step forward. The intruder tensed up and pointed one double-bladed sword at her. “I’m Jean Grey. This is Cyclops, Nightcrawler, Beast, Storm, Quicksilver and Mystique. Welcome to Xavier’s-” 

“Look wrong.” The man muttered. “All look wrong. Where Wolverine? Where Colossus?” 

“I-I don’t know who they are.” 

The man burst into a rapid babble of words that sounded like a cross between Russian and Japanese with a smidgen of pig-Latin thrown into the mix. He sheathed one sword to the harness strapped to his back and pulled a device from his belt. He glowered at the tiny screen and placed it back, still muttering under his breath. 

Damned if Hank wasn’t still trying to go the diplomatic route. “I, uh, still didn’t catch your name.” 

“Didn’t throw it.” The stranger shot back. He was irritably looking around the room. 

“Hey!” Raven finally lost her patience and called to get his attention. “I don’t know what’s going on here but you’re going to have to identify yourself.” 

The redhead regarded her for a few seconds, then looked at Kurt, then Hank. He huffed out a breath and shook his head. “Blue mutants. Why with all the blue?” 

Rolling her eyes, Mystique decided to humor him and changed her color to a bright pink. “Is this better?” 

If the stranger was shocked by the color change, he didn’t show it. He only grunted, “Nai,” and then turned to the steel door a few seconds before it slid open and Xavier wheeled inside the room. 

Charles was about to ask what the devil was going on when he felt the intruder positively thrust his thoughts at him with such force it was almost an assault. His hands flew halfway up in surprise before it dawned on him that this was the action of someone used to dealing with telepaths. Small wonder it came as a shock. He tried to sort out the onslaught of information but it wasn’t easy; the language was an unknown and the redhead had an unorthodox mindset that didn’t follow the logical progression of human thought. It was tightly compressed, incredibly fast, and bereft of any emotion other than brooding anger. 

Like puzzling out an encrypted code, Charles quickly deciphered it and the two were able to communicate. 

 _\- I am on the wrong Earth,_ the stranger said bluntly. His mental voice was deep and clear and unmistakably authoritarian. It was the tone of a man used to commanding others.  - _You are not the mutants of X I was sent to find._  

 _\- I’m afraid you’re going to have to be a tad more specific, my friend,_ Xavier said with a slight smile. 

An odd thing happened in response to the older mutant’s words. There was a stutter-step in the intruder’s thoughts and he betrayed a puzzled expression before his face went carefully neutral again. It was as if the word ‘friend’ was some sort of unknown concept. Quickly recovering from the brief falter, the redhead projected; _\- Specifics may jeopardize this dimensional breech. Little is known of the damage my presence could bring if I say too much. My arena call-sign is Shatterstar. I’m from a different world and alternate dimension one hundred years in the future. Our resistance movement is under siege and I was sent back to recruit the X-Men to aid us. They had fought my world’s ruler before._ He turned and regarded the young mutants. _– Clearly this group is not them. Something has compromised the space that separates our realities and fractured the time-line. You are the third Earth I have visited. Fekt. It is frustrating. I must go back to my origin point and try again._  

 _\- Do you need to rest? Can we get you something to eat or drink?_ Xavier was deliberately stalling so that he could parse out this deluge of information, but he could read the fatigue in the other man’s thoughts. Additionally, there was something else that piqued his curiosity; something that had to do with the other man’s unusual conduct. 

Shatterstar dropped his guard a bit and betrayed a sigh. _– That’s very tempting, I won’t lie. Three elsewhen transports in four ohn’s is fekting exhausting, but I was ordered not to linger in a wrong reality. I will take my leave._ He bowed his head and lightly bumped the fist of his right hand against the black star on his uniform; a gesture of respect. _-Thank you._  

With that, he shut down their rapport from his end. Xavier was stunned by the apparent mental control. The intruder wasn’t psychic, but it was clear that he had been thoroughly trained on how to shield his thoughts from telepaths. There was also some sort of otherworldly pall that enshrouded his mind, making deep examination difficult. If Xavier possessed any lingering doubt in the man’s story, the truth was in the intruder’s sheer presence: Shatterstar was not of their world. 

“...Professor?” Hank queried, having reverted back to human form since it appeared there was no present threat. _Thank God._ He and the others had been patient, recognizing a private mental conversation as it was happening, but now it was evident that the pair were done and they wanted answers. “What’s going on?” 

“A misunderstanding. Nothing more.” Xavier responded and received a grateful nod from the new arrival. “He is going to leave and we will not stop him.” 

Shatterstar was frowning at the transport responder he was readying. He walked over and touched the steel wall and looked up at the ceiling. “Static. Can’t leave here. Must go to elsewhere.” 

“Hank,” Xavier said. “Could you show our guest outside, please?” 

“Alright. Time out. Just hold on a minute.” Peter was waving his arms so fast they were a blur. “How do you know that thing isn’t, y’know, a bomb or something?” He phased out of sight for a brief second and was back standing in the same spot, holding the device. 

Star looked down at his now-empty hand in amazement before he released a roar of fury and whirled on the silver-haired mutant, both weapons drawn. “Vehjka! Give back!” 

“Peter!” Xavier shouted. “Don’t-” 

“C’mon, coppertop. What’cha gonna-” Before he could finish the sentence, the stranger was in his face with the blade of each sword embedded into the wall on either side of his head. Quicksilver blinked in shock as the device was pulled from his hands. The larger man’s speed wasn’t on par with his own but, like Xavier, Peter was so used to dealing with regular people that he was completely unprepared for this type of obviously super-human confrontation. 

“If not for being X, head be gone.” Star rumbled, stowing the transponder safely away. He pulled his swords from the wall and returned them to the X-shaped scabbards strapped to his back, glaring bitterly at the mutant. 

“Holy crap! What the hell are you?” Scott had seen the blur of movement that had managed to take even Peter by surprise. 

“Not matter.” He looked at Xavier. “Must go now.” 

“Hank?” Charles prompted again. On the heels of that, he comforted them mentally with: _\- I will explain everything later. I promise. Our top priority is to let this man leave quickly._ He deliberately cocked an eyebrow at Peter who at least had the sense to look a little sheepish. 

Storm looked at Raven and asked in a low voice, “Does this type of thing happen often?” 

“No. This is a first.” Mystique admitted, watching Hank escort the tall intruder out of the Danger Room with the professor in tow. When the door had sealed closed, she added, “But for some reason I’m kind of doubting it’ll be our last.” 

Kurt was the only one who had yet to comment. He was wondering if the redhead was also a teleporter and was intrigued. He was about to ask if they could follow when that hissing, sizzling sound started again. 

“Great.” Scott said in disgust. He looked at Raven as a ball of light began to grow in intensity. “Bet you weren’t thinking it would happen this soon, huh?” 

Taking the elevator to the ground floor level of the Institute, there was silence in the small space before Hank nervously cleared his throat and said, “I guess I can assume you’re not from around here.” 

“Nai. No.” Star murmured, staring at the door. “Much sorry for the speaking. Archival data was incomplete and I was hurry. Only had-” He counted on his fingers, “-Ch’tle ohn’s... twelve hours? For study.” 

“You learned English in twelve hours?” 

“Bai. Not well. Again, much sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize. That’s really very impressive.” 

Star’s lips twitched in distaste. “Built for battle. Not words.” He took a wary step back when the doors opened. 

“Built? Charles, is he a-a-” Hank received a tacit shake of the head at his question. It clearly meant, _‘Not right now’._  

The elevator opened to the main corridor of the mansion and Star lingered in the general safety of the lift until the other two managed to coax him out. The surroundings of polished oak, tiles and fancy plaster work were as alien to him as his presence was to the sumptuous surroundings. He couldn’t have remained indifferent even if he’d tried and began craning his head around to try and take in everything around him: the fancy bric-a-brac, the artwork on the walls set in their gilded frames, the immaculate furniture, and plants. For some reason, the Boston ferns and climbing ivy seemed to make him slow his pace and stare the most. When he became aware that Hank and Charles were looking at him, he self-consciously cleared his throat but said nothing and sped up his pace. 

His presence caused quite a stir in the house. A few students had noticed the procession and quickly spread the word. By the time they reached the grand foyer, most had gathered in doorways and along the staircase to watch them. Star appeared indifferent to the increased scrutiny and took careful note of the different faces. He looked down at Charles. “All mutants?” 

“Yes. Some were found, some were brought to us, and some even came willingly. Here they can learn how to control their gifts and get an education.” 

“Then...?” 

“Then it will be left to them to determine what they want to do. Help others by staying here, perhaps, or go on with their own lives.” 

“Free will.” Star said in a voice almost too low to hear. He looked over at one small, frail-looking boy who couldn’t have been older than ten years old. “Lucky vehjkas them.” 

They reached the front door and Star lingered back as Hank opened it for them just like he had in the elevator. It was instinctive behavior of someone perpetually expecting an attack. When he followed them outside, he immediately flinched when he stepped out into sunlight and brought up an arm to cover his eyes. “ _Ky!_ Bright!” That behavior earned him another puzzled stare from the two mutants. 

“Take your time to adjust.” Charles said patiently. 

Hank simply couldn’t help himself. His scientific nature was on full alert. “Where did you come from?” 

Star ignored him and tried to wipe his eyes but the padded helmet was in the way. He pulled it off and used the loose material of his sleeve to wipe away the stinging tears. “Sorries. Used to artificial light. Fire. Not this-” He looked up and froze in sudden shock at what he saw. 

Hank was also stunned when he finally saw the stranger’s face. He whirled around. “Charles?” 

Xavier permitted himself a small smile. “I thought that might be the case when we touched minds. How interesting.” 

“Holy cow. You’re just a kid.” Hank marveled. 

Star glanced at him, exposing a face bereft of any age lines or stubble with a rash of freckles across his straight nose and both high cheekbones. There was a tattoo of an eight-pointed black star covering his left eye and both were a striking, piercing light blue. It was his height and build that had thrown them off; being over six feet, broad shouldered and extremely muscled. He had the physique of a mature man in his prime. Add in those softer features, however, and Hank put the stranger’s age at maybe around seventeen. 

Star looked out at the courtyard as if he was witnessing a vision. Gazing down at a planter full of brightly colored plants he couldn’t even begin to put a name to, he found a set of stairs and quickly took them two at a time to reach the lawn below. “The green. Za’s Vid. Mine eyes on all the green!” 

It went as far as his vision could reach. Students were out here as well, running across that verdant surface like people who had absolutely no idea just how precious and rare their environment was around them. There were tall growths he eventually identified as ‘trees’ covering the compound and their rich canopy threw cool, welcoming shade when he walked into the nearest grove. 

He looked up at a low hanging branch and pulled off the glove of his left hand to gently touch a leaf. “By the God’s Head...” He said in wonder. 

“That’s a maple leaf,” said a voice. 

He flinched and turned around and saw a shorter teenager standing nearby, smiling at him. The other youth had an attractive dark complexion and his head was shaved on both sides, exposing a strip of black hair that was deliberately styled to stand on end. He was dressed in a sleeveless blue vest and casuals that Star associated as being normal for this world. He was barefoot in the grass and had his hands in the pockets of his baggy pants. His English was also twisted by a heavy accent and maybe, just maybe, that was the reason Star paid his full attention to him. “What say? May-pull?” 

The other laughed. “Oh wow, amigo. You’re from a different country too, huh? Cool.” He extended his hand. “I’m Rictor.” 

Star looked at the youth, to the outstretched hand, and back to that face again. He figured he was expected to do something but was at a loss. “I don’t-” 

“It’s a hand shake. Here.” Rictor grabbed Star’s bare hand with his own, gave it a brief pump, and released it. “Now you gotta tell me your name and then we’re square.” 

Completely baffled at this point, Star actually muttered, “Gaveedra-” before he caught the slip. Realizing it was too late, his pale cheeks flushed with embarrassment. 

That got Ric laughing again. “Don’t worry about it. These gringos have some weird traditions. You’ll get used to ‘em in no time.” He looked up at the tree. “That’s a maple. I never saw one before I got here either. Pancake syrup comes out of these if you can believe it.” He reached up and pulled a leaf from the branch. 

Star was aghast by that action. “Dare to pluck? You?” 

The darker youth looked at him sharply and, in his mind, the laboring words came across with a completely different connotation; one that darkened his cheeks and made his mouth go dry. He was struck numb looking at the tall stranger, taking note of the impressive build, those handsome features, and that hair-! _Ay caramba,_ the smaller teenager had never seen hair that color before. He tried to talk, the words coming out as a squeak. Clearing his throat, he managed to ask, “Wha-what’d you say?” 

“Pah-luck. Pluck!” Star snapped, gesturing at the leaf still in the other’s hand. “Not do! Put it back!” 

“How?” Ric shot back. “Krazy glue? You can’t just put leaves back, culero!” He was suddenly all flustered and it had nothing to do with any damn leaf. 

“Shatterstar, it’s all right.” Charles said, coming up behind them along with Hank. “It doesn’t do any harm to the tree.” 

“Nai?” 

“No.” 

Star still didn’t appear entirely convinced, but he noticed how Rictor was looking at him and figured an explanation was in order. “All greens be dead on Mojoworld. Extinct. Only seen in vids.” He looked up. “No suns neither. Skies always dusk.” 

Rictor gave his head a shake and scowled at Xavier. “This some kinda joke, jefe?” 

Before Charles could come up with an answer, Star swiped the leaf out of Ric’s hand and held it up to Xavier. “Can keep? It is okay?” At the approving nod, the warrior carefully tucked it away in one of the many pouches of his belt. “Need it for proof. Nai Cadre will believe.” He nodded at Rictor. For the very first time since his arrival there was an expression on his face that was close to a genuine smile. “Many thanks.” 

Too flummoxed by events, Ric shrugged and crossed his arms. “Whatever.” 

“And to you,” he said, looking at Charles and Hank. He replaced his helmet and pulled his top-knot pony-tail free (Ric’s eyes couldn’t help but latch onto the sight of that long length of red, watching it move with the light breeze like a banner). “Wish this was right Earth. Is amazing.” He glanced sidelong at Rictor again, the corner of his mouth curling up slightly. After a slight hesitation, he reluctantly pulled the transponder free and began to input coordinates. 

Just as he was about to initiate the jump, Kurt Wagner appeared on the patio in an explosion of teleportation smoke with Storm at the same time Quicksilver came bolting out of the front door with Cyclops. “Everybody look out!” Peter shouted. “We’re under attack!” 

On the heels of that, a rhino charged out of the front door with a body impaled on one huge tusk. It flicked it off with a shrug of its massive head and then transformed to Mystique’s human form. She dove for cover as lasers burst through the demolished entrance. 

When the first of the armored figures appeared, Shatterstar unsheathed his swords and rushed forward. “Fekting Imperial Protectorate-” was the only thing he said that made the least bit of sense before reverting to his native tongue. Of them all, only Xavier could keep track of the rest of the exchange. _“You followed my backtrail? Mojo-kissing dogs!”_  

The leader of the group clearly looked unimpressed by Star’s appearance. _“We thought you had already made your jump back, rebel-”_ He saw Cyclops out of the corner of his eye and brought up a force shield just in time to deflect the mutant’s blast. When he raised his rifle, Quicksilver flashed in and tried to grab it. He might as well have been trying to pull it free from concrete. He barely caught sight of a lip curl beneath the soldier’s helmet before the weapon discharged. Despite his speed, he still got nailed in the shoulder and skidded off the patio to slide a distance along the front lawn before slamming against a tree. 

Xavier tried to mentally grapple with the four intruders but found his mind repelled by a force he’d never encountered before. It was a far more complicated shield than what Shatterstar had and entirely effective. He couldn’t stop their attack. He commanded his younger students to get to safety and all of them scrambled for cover except for Rictor who was running alongside Star. He was rubbing his hands together and generating a green glow. He flashed the alien a maniacal grin. “I’ve been going loco around here. Finally, some action!” 

Star cast him a quick glance. “Crazy vehjka.” 

“Yeah, whatever, amigo. Let’s kick some ass!” He slid to a halt and extended his arms, clasping his hands together into the shape of a gun. The earth vibrated around his feet as he released a concentrated seismic blast that hit one of the soldier’s dead center. The man’s body collided with the brick wall of the house so hard that it cracked the mortar. 

 _\- Rictor! Power down!_ Xavier commanded. 

“No way, jose. It’s been too long since I cut loose and-” The ground beneath him lurched and when he looked down at his feet he saw fissures splitting the grass and extending deep down into the earth. The cracks extended away from him like the ripples of a pond. _“¡Ah chingá!”_ He cast an urgent glance at Xavier as the localized earthquake he was generating began to get out of control. “Uh... a little help?” 

With only three soldiers left standing, the outcome should never have been in doubt but, for some reason, this small strike force seemed particularly equipped to handle each of the X-Men’s powers. With their minds closed off, Jean Grey resorted to using her telekinesis. She discovered that moving them was no good; they seemed to have some sort of gravitational resistance. She slammed several of the heavier concrete flower pots at them and they bounced off. The same thing happened with Scott’s optic blasts and Storm’s lightening bolts. 

Nightcrawler appeared behind one and wrapped his arms around the armored shoulders. He initiated a teleport and the pair winked out of sight for a brief second before the soldier reappeared. 

Without Kurt. 

Jean screamed his name. 

“It’s no good!” Scott pulled Jean out of the way of a barrage of laser fire. “They counter our attacks before we can hit them. They must be telepaths.” 

“Nai,” grumbled a voice from nearby. They saw Shatterstar hunkered down and following the trio with his sharp eyes. “Creating precognitive shields with magick. Their armor is enchanted.” 

“Did you say magic?” Jean asked in disbelief. When she got no response, she looked at Scott. “Did he really say magic?” 

“Who the hell is this guy?!” Scott shouted at Xavier. 

“Knows of you. Counters your powers.” Star told them. He eyed the fallen soldier by the door; the alien’s back littered in brick and mortar, and then over at the other who had been skewered by Raven’s shape-shifting form. He turned to the odd-haired youth grappling with his unstable power. In a loud, booming voice, he shouted: “Ricky-Turd! Do that again!” 

“The fuck you call me?!” The Mexican immediately shot back. 

Star was gesturing urgently at the soldiers. “They have no defense against other X. Don’t know you. Kill them!” 

“I ain’t out to kill nobody.” Ric clasped his hands together again. “But if you want me to shake ‘em up, I can do that.” 

“Same as you.” Star pointed to Raven and then to Beast, “And you. They not know.” He jumped over the barricade and charged. “Attack!” 

Rictor, helped by Xavier to steady his mind and have better control over his power, released another blast that brutally staggered the three and before they could recover, McCoy changed into his powerful Beast form and grappled with one while Mystique mirrored his form and did the same to another. 

Star leapt in and moved like a dervish, decapitating one soldier with a lightening-fast slash of his sword. Punching out with the hand-guards of his weapons, he nailed another soldier in the helmet and the wicked spikes pierced the otherworldly metal. When he pulled it free, blood and brains leaked from the three large holes they left behind. 

That was too much for Hank. “Oh, gross!” He staggered away and started puking into a flowerpot. 

Mystique was grappling with the third. With a few well placed stabs from Star’s shorter sword, the guard was left kneeling on the ground with his arms wrapped around his belly trying to hold his guts in. 

Star ripped off his helmet exposing a face that was twisted and not human. It had the pushed-in dog-like features of a boxer but with just enough of a twist to make it look sentient. Standing beside him, Raven noticed that the creature only had four fingers. _“Why are you following me? Why not just wait for me to return to the rebel base and kill me there?”_ Star blasted at them in the language of their world. 

 _“We’re not interested in you, whelp.”_ The soldier was panting. The blood dripping from his fanged lower jaw was a light purple color _. “We let you lead us to the worlds of the X and we killed them, each and every one. Young and old.”_ He offered a pained rictus of a satisfied grin. He dug into a hidden pocket and threw down a scattering of pins; all “X”s of different sizes and colors. Most were tarnished with blood. At the sight of them, Star betrayed a sound of horror. _“It was a glorious broadcast. Hail Mojo V."_

“Vehjkas!” Star bellowed. 

_“You were to have moved on by now. We didn’t expect you to linger. No matter. Another squadron will be dispatched to trace your channel as you continue your search.”_

Star knelt to gingerly pick up one of the discarded X-Men pins. One side of it was charred. He shook his head and his voice broke when he shouted: _“I will permit no more X-Men to be killed!”_

 _“It is your mission, rebel. You’re no more capable of disobeying an order than we are.”_  

With a roar of fury, Star grabbed double fistfuls of the soldier’s uniform and hauled him effortlessly up to his eye level. _“Watch me, dog-soldier.”_ He pulled out the transponder and threw it to the ground where he crushed it under the heel of one grey boot. _“My mission for the Cadre is ended.”_  

The soldier couldn’t believe his eyes. _“Do you know what you’ve done?!”_  

 _“I’ll not rerun my mistakes for Mojo’s ratings. I will save other mutants of X from succumbing to the likes of you. Your show is cancelled!”_ Star stared down at the shattered components of his teleportation device as if dazed by the act. 

 _“Foolish idiot! The Alliance will lose their battle against Mojo V without the X-Men at their back. Those that aren’t killed will be hauled back to the kennels!”_  

 _“They will die free by their own hand before Mojo can lay claim to them. You? You will die slow.”_ He punched a fist into the soldier’s perforated stomach and grabbed a handful of intestines and ripped them out. Stepping back, he coldly watched as the soldier spasmed his final death throes on the concrete patio. 

Raven took a step forward. To do what, she wasn’t precisely sure. Star stuck out an arm and glared at her. There was something in that intense light blue gaze that stopped her from resisting. The totality of loss was plain in his eyes and, for some reason, she was reminded of Erik Lehnsherr; a man who was sometimes an ally, sometimes the villain named Magneto. A conflicted, tortured mutant to whom trust never came easily and whose life was marked by unspeakable loss. After a short stare-down, she dropped her eyes and turned away from the grisly sight. A few of the others seemed to want to intervene and she passed them an irritated wave. She still didn’t know what was happening here, but it was clear that it didn’t involve them. Not anymore. 

It took almost a minute before the alien coughed up a gout of dark purple blood and finally died. At the sight, the corner of Star’s mouth lifted in a sneer. _“Too fekting short. I should have-”_ He was suddenly grabbed from behind. 

The guard Rictor stunned with his seismic blast now wrapped an arm around Star’s throat while holding the muzzle of his weapon to the side of the warrior’s helmet. The X-Men flanked the pair, ready to attack. _“You speak their tongue. Tell them to stand-down, gladiator.”_  

Between clenched teeth, the redhead growled out, _“Never.”_  

Almost imperceptible to human ears, he started to hum. 

Charles, monitoring the situation very closely, received an alert from Cerebro that was detecting new mutant activity. “I’ll be damned,” he whispered in amazement. 

Even though the air was so still you could hear a pin drop, Hank’s enhanced senses were detecting something happening with the acoustic spectrum. His ears popped and the conversation in front of him became muted and thin as sound seemed to be sucked out of the very air around them. He looked over at Xavier’s shocked face and yelled, “What’s happening?” But the words came out as barely a whisper.  

Claws tightened around Shatterstar’s Adam’s apple and were prepared to rip it out. _“If a flechette to your brain doesn’t kill you, ripping out your throat will downchannel your fate to static crackle. Comply!”_  

Practically seething with fury, Star dropped one sword but whipped the single bladed one around in a double grip even as the soldier’s claws began to draw blood. _“Mojo-kissing scum. I am of the Blood Cadre Alliance! I have survived cancellation every single day and I tell you: Today is no different!”_ He thrust the sword through his stomach. It punched out of his back and a white-hot blast of energy from the tip cut the soldier behind him in half. 

The alien guard was dead before his pieces dropped the ground. Star fell to knees and pulled the sword free. He coughed up a spray of dark red blood and fell to his side, gripping his wound. “Ughnn.” 

Of them all, Rictor was the one who managed to find his voice first. _“Are you loco-?!”_ He sprinted up the steps and slid to a stop on his knees beside the stricken warrior. The right side of the wounded stranger’s side was red with blood. It didn’t occur to Ric that there should have been more of it. He was too shocked to do more than helplessly stare. 

“N-nai,” Star gasped. “Just willing to do... what it takes to win.” 

Before he could say more, Nightcrawler burst out of a teleportation cloud with a scream of agony before he fell to the ground and curled into a shuddering ball. His clothes and fur were singed and his body was smoking and reeking of sulfur. As the rest of the team rallied around him, the bodies of the invaders lit up and everyone shielded their eyes. 

“What’s going on?” With his visor, Cyclops was the only one who could withstand the intensity of the glare and he saw the forms of the attack force beginning to disintegrate. He turned to look for the only person who could provide an explanation for what was happening but saw the spot where Rictor was kneeling and protectively shielding his eyes was empty. 

By the time everyone was left blinking the spots from their eyes the invaders, and Shatterstar, were gone. 

Several hours later, Charles was exiting Cerebro’s chamber to find Jean Grey waiting for him. “Kurt’s going to be okay.” She said. “He’s sleeping now but, earlier, told us that he had been stuck in another dimension. Possibly the one that he uses between teleports.” 

Charles was smiling but, he looked tired and small wonder. It had been one hell of a crazy afternoon. “Crossing dimensions seems to be a theme for the day.” As promised he had told the group the reason for Shatterstar’s appearance and what had gone on in the battle. He added for her benefit, “He’s alive. He didn’t disappear when those soldiers incinerated themselves, self-destructed, what-ever you would call it.” 

She regarded him with her piercing green eyes. “He was badly wounded. You saw what he did. We all saw it. He stabbed himself and-and did... _something_ to the soldier holding him.” 

Xavier smiled. “Cerebro detected a mutagenic reading on him when he did that. Some sort of acoustic channeling ability.” 

She looked stunned. “An _alien_ mutant?” 

Releasing a rare bark of laughter, Xavier traveled to Hank’s nearby lab. “Ancient Pharaohs and now time-jumping dimensional refugees. And I believe it’s just the tip of the iceberg. Right, Hank? How goes it?” 

McCoy had been investigating the remains of the teleportation mechanism that Shatterstar had trampled on. Like the soldiers, it appeared to have had some sort of built-in self-destruct charge and was little more than a charred wad of plastic and metal. “Whatever this was, there’s no hope of savaging it. Did you find him?” 

“He’s still on the property. Looks like he’s made a camp for the night.” An expression of unease crossed his face. “Contact was almost impossible to establish, but I didn’t like the mindset I was receiving. Leaving him alone in that state is out of the question.” 

“I’ll go.” Jean volunteered. “He recognized me.” 

“He recognized a variant.” Charles corrected. “Seeing you or any others of the team might just make the situation worse. It needs to be somebody else.” 

Hank cocked a knowing eyebrow at his old friend. “I take it you have somebody in mind?” 

Xavier just smiled. 

In the woods on Xavier’s estate, Star was seated in front of a fire he’d made and was bleakly looking down at one of the many X-Men pins the Imperial soldier had thrown to the ground. He turned it over and over with his fingers, wondering which one of the X-Men this pin had belonged to. The realization that he was responsible for the death of a coveted mutant was enough to bring tears, but he couldn’t manage the act. Tears had been beaten out of him when he had been a young crècheling still in single-digit seasons, but knew the grief that he felt was very real. He hung his head in despair until he jerked it to the side, listening. There was movement in the forest. Not the furtive, deliberate sounds of a creature but something bigger and determined. And very clumsy. Star listened for awhile and then got preoccupied with the button again. About fifteen minutes later, Rictor burst from the tree-line. 

“Whoa!” He held up his hands the minute he stepped out into the light to avoid any attack. He quickly realized that the other teenager was staring at him mildly and not betraying any sign of surprise. “You, uh, knew it was me?” 

“Noisy. No threat.” Was all Star had to say of the matter. 

Ric had brought a backpack and pulled out a first aid kit, showing it to him. “The others weren’t sure if you were okay.” He patted his side and then pointed to Star’s uniform. The side where the teenager stabbed himself had turned the white material an ugly dark brown. “I brought some bandages and other stuff in case you need it.” 

“Nai.” Star pulled his top free and lifted it up. 

Ric ogled that washboard stomach for a few too many seconds before it dawned on him that he should have been looking for a wound. He almost slapped himself for the lapse. _Gotta keep your head straight, Ric. Especially the one above the shoulders._ “Oh wow. You’ve got a healing factor?” 

“Heal fast. Bai.” The redhead confirmed. “All arena battle models designed so.” 

Rictor opened his mouth and then snapped it shut. Thanks to an instant psychic download when he had been rescued, he knew English fluently. The other teenager’s grasp of the language was tenuous at best and the weird heavy accent didn’t help. Because of that, it was hard to understand him. “You mean there are more of you?” 

The reminder of the rebels he had left behind visibly pained Star and he held up the single-bladed sword lying by his side. Ric sucked in breath at the sight of it. “I’m not here for a fight.” 

“Not for you.” Star murmured, distracted by the play of flames reflecting off the white alien metal. 

“Sorry, but you’re gonna have to be more specific.” 

“I failed. Coming here. I got X-Men killed.” 

“What? No. No, that’s not the case at all. Nightcrawler’s a little wrung out, but everybody’s fine-” 

 _“Not fine!”_ Star suddenly shouted at him. “Cancellations be my fault. Too many to atone. My season is done!” 

Rictor most definitely did not like the direction that this conversation was going. There was something about the way the other guy was acting and his fixation on that damn sword that tripped an internal alarm. It was something eerily similar in that behavior that he really didn’t want to see play out. “Can I sit down?” 

Shatterstar flashed him an irritated, puzzled glance. “Ky?” 

“It’s been a long day and I’m bushed. Can I hunker down here for awhile?” 

Slowly parsing out the question, Star made an odd, distracted gesture to the far side of the fire that the Mexican interpreted as an invitation. After he unshouldered his pack and sat down, the redhead nodded to a length of stick that had a charring piece of meat on its end. “Can have. Yours.” 

“I’m, uhm... No thanks. I’m good.” 

From where Star came from, it was exceptionally magnanimous to share a portion of a hunt to one who hadn’t contributed. His eyes narrowed at the perceived slight and he visibly tensed up until Ric grabbed the stick. When he did, Star calmed down. 

Ric nibbled a little bit of the black meat just to be polite. “Oh, gross,” he said when he managed to swallow the stringy morsel. 

Mercifully oblivious, Star inquired. “Is okay?” 

“It’s, uh, well, let’s just say it ain’t a Big Mac.” 

Star stared at him puzzled. “What be that? Is a creature?” 

“No. Well, maybe it once was. The meat paddies, I mean. It’s a burger. Something you can buy at a fast food place.” He realized the redhead was just staring at him blankly. “Uhm, around here you can buy food made to order. You don’t have that where you’re from?” 

“Before, at arena, I ate what was given. And be grateful. With the Cadre we hunted our food. Not plentiful like here.” He waved at the branch that had his share of meat on the end. “Your creatures are easy to catch. What be this?” He held up a round piece of leather that was pink and had a little bell jingling from the buckle and threw it over to him for inspection.

When Ric realized what he was eating, he dropped his piece to the ground and scrambled away to throw up into the bushes. “Madre de Dios! You gotta be kidding me!” He wandered back and tried to throw the rest of the meat into the fire over Star’s objections. “You gotta get rid of that, mano.” 

“Hunting be poor in the Wastes. I’m hungry.” Star took another bite out of his portion in clear defiance. 

Watching him chew made Rictor want to throw up again. He picked up the pink collar and saw that there was a name written in pen on the side: “Socks”. He threw that in the fire too. “Star, you’re eating somebody’s pet! What the fuck-?” 

“What be a pet?” 

“Are you serious?! What country are you friggin’ from that don’t have pets?” 

“I’m from Mojoworld. Not from Earth.” 

 _Well, that sure explains an awful lot about what happened this afternoon._ Ric gaped at him. Aside from telling him the other teenager’s code name, Xavier had been vague in details about the new arrival. It had probably been for this very reason. “You’re a-a an... alien? Not, y’know, like an _illegal_ alien, which is something I happen to know quite a lot about. You’re a-a space alien?” He pointed to the night sky. “From out there?” 

Star really didn’t understand most of what the other teenager was rambling about. He shrugged. “I guess that be so.” 

“Where’s your spaceship?” 

“Different time. Different dimension. Crossed through with device, not vehicle. It’s destroyed. I’m-” He stared bleakly into the fire, trying to come up with the words to express his predicament. He suddenly threw his meal into the dying flames. “I’m fekting fekted.” 

“Your way of swearing is funny as hell.” Ric told him, betraying a smile. 

“Is the language of my world. You would prefer I say fah-uck all of the time?” 

“No, I just mean-” 

Star suddenly went on a rant: “Fah-uck you! Fuck Mojo. Fuck the Protectorate. Fuck this world. Fuck. Fuck! Fah- _UCK!”_  

Rictor looked at him a few seconds, blinked, and then burst out laughing. The fact that it made Star scowl at him in disapproval just made it the whole thing even funnier. “You’re gonna fit in just great around here.” He managed to get out between gales of laughter. “I think you have an even worse temper than I do. What a riot!” 

The redhead narrowed his eyes. “This be not funny, vehjka.” 

“No, you gotta a raw deal. I get it. So did most of us who got born this way.” Ric calmed down a little. “I was born into a crime family, see? Gunrunners. Watched my dad take a bullet to the head a few years ago.” He pantomimed the act with a finger to the temple and Star appeared to understand the gesture by nodding. “That triggered my power and I ended up creating an earthquake that killed a couple dozen people.” Ric’s smile faded at the memory and became solemn. “Some of them were just kids. I bolted outta there and was on my own for awhile before some really bad hombres captured me. They... What they did... Look, let’s just say I was in real rough shape by the time Xavier found me. He helped me deal with what happened. He can help you too if you’ll let him.” On the heels of that, for no clear reason, came the desperate thought: _So can I._  

“I am not of this world, Ric.” The alien rumbled, clearly upset. “Not your kind. What I be... is how Whitecoats made me.” 

“O-kay, I’m not even gonna try and figure that one out. All I see when I look at you is a gringo around my age who’s got powers and is pretty fucked up. This is the perfect place for you.” 

Star cocked his head to the side in a puzzled way. “That is all you see?” 

 _Oh Christ, no._ Ric wished he had the guts to say what he was feeling out loud. _You’ve got the most amazing hair I’ve ever seen. A perfect face with those incredible eyes and a body that even Christopher Reeve would envy. Just looking you makes me so friggin hard I’m close to coming in my jeans._ “Uhm, yeah.” He said after clearing his throat. “Trade in that bitchin’ costume for some low-key earth duds and nobody’ll have a clue what you really are.” _Sure. Right. That’s a goddamn lie and you know it, Ric. I mean; Look at him!_ As his mind betrayed his words he could only be silently grateful that Star wasn’t a telepath. He had a pretty good idea that the filthy thoughts going through his head would make the poor guy stab himself again. 

“I’ll have a-a cah-lew,” Star muttered. He plucked fretfully at the white fabric of his top. “I am a fighter. A warrior. A rebel. Worse, am still property of Mojo. Best if I cancel myself now.” 

He raised his sword again and that brought back Rictor’s initial sense of unease. “Don’t do it, man. Watching you skewer yourself that first time was bad enough.” 

“Have to be beheading.” Star said in a remarkably calm voice. “Healing factor.” 

“You’re not doing that either.” Rictor made the act of laying his hands on the ground look casual but he was poised to power up if things took a dark turn. He tried to use some of the rhetoric that had been used on him during an eerily similar incident but mostly he was close to babbling because, for whatever the reason, this guy was going to do it. He was going to kill himself. That darkness was already in his eyes, mirroring how his mind had made the decision. It was just a simple matter of following it through. Ric had to make sure it didn’t happen. “Hey!” He clapped his hands and the small concussive boom of that action caused the other to look up at him in surprise. “You’re probably tired. You look really beat. Been on your feet for awhile, am I right? Huh?” 

Star continued staring at him, listening, but didn’t move. 

“How about hungry? A damn cat can’t have much meat on it. You still hungry?” 

Star grimaced as his stomach betrayed him with a growl and his face reddened in embarrassment. Rictor started frantically rummaging through his backpack. He pulled out one of Quicksilver’s favorite treats: A Twinkie. He unwrapped it and threw it over to the large warrior who caught it with his free hand. “Have a bite of that baby and then tell me life isn’t worth living. Just humor me. Okay?” 

Idly wondering if it could be some sort of poison, it spoke of Star's current state of mind that he really didn’t care one way or the other. He bit the end and chewed. The expression on his pale face went from listless to alert in a few seconds. The pupils of both eyes dilated until they were huge black pools. He gobbled the treat with two more bites and looked to Ric for more. 

Seeing that, the Mexican got quickly to his feet. “C'mon with me back to the mansion. There’s plenty more of those things. Hell, there’s food on the kitchen you wouldn’t believe. What do you say?” 

Star shook his head. “Best if I don’t. Mojo will come for me.” 

“Let him try. You ain’t goin nowhere you don’t want to, mano. I’ll make damned sure of that.” There something in Ric’s voice that made Star examine his face and he was surprised to see anger there as well as a great deal of concern. For _him_. When had he ever seen anything like that directed at him? 

The answer was brutally simple. _Never_. 

Unaccustomed to sugar, it hit Star’s system hard and he started trembling. “You this committed to all students?”  

“Nope. Just to my friends.” 

“I know not that word. Xavier mind-spoke it, too. What mean?” 

“It means you’re my compadre, amigo. We look out for each other.” 

“...Combative partner?” It was the only thing Star could puzzle out as it applied to his past alliances with the Blood Cadre. Those terse, stressful unions rarely lasted for long and usually ended in death. The impression he was getting from the dark human seemed to suggest something more long term. 

“Yeah, sure. You’ll figure it out pretty quick I think.” Ric spared him an easy smile and walked carefully around the fire. He held a hand out to him. “Come on. We’ll get you sorted out back at the house. Let’s go.” 

Star looked to the outstretched hand, to the other teenager’s face, and then down to the charred “X” button still in his hand. For a span of time he didn’t move, considering his pitifully few options before throwing it into the fire. With the first of resolve showing on his face, he sheathed the sword to his harness and then carefully grabbed the other teenager’s hand, making sure not to use his superior strength. 

Rictor, gauging the alien’s size and estimating his weight, braced his feet and hauled him up as hard as he could. Star was positively yanked from where he was sitting and collided hard with the mutant, chest to chest. Instinctively grasping the white material, Ric now found the taller man’s face only inches from his own. _Lord, there’s one for the spank bank,_ he thought as he helplessly ogled that handsome face. “You, uhm, you’re a-a lot lighter than you look.” 

Star didn’t appear to be as flustered as the Mexican. He only looked down at him and said, “Hollow bones.” 

“Really? Wow. No shit.” Ric realized they were still holding hands and quickly pulled his free as he stepped back. He nervously cleared his throat. “It’s getting pretty late and it’s been one long, weird, goddamned day. Let’s get back, huh?” 

Star favored him with a small smile. It really wasn’t much, barely a token offer of gratitude, but the sight of it caused Ric to trip over a branch, almost face-planting with the ground if not for the alien’s quick reflexes. Star caught the back of his vest and kept him upright. “Careful. Need you to protect me when Mojo comes.” 

“Yeah, I’ll be a great help.” Ric said with a faltering chuckle. “But I’ll do my best, mano. I promise you that.” 

“More than I could ask. Much thanks.” Star slapped him on the back, sending him stumbling a few steps. He chuffed out a sound that almost sounded like a chuckle at the glare Rictor shot him. He paused long enough to kick dirt over the fire and extinguish it and then followed him out of the woods. 

Once they were clear of the treeline, Shatterstar stopped again and looked up. The sky in Mojoworld was almost always cloaked in a shroud of diseased clouds but, at night there was the odd time that they parted to reveal sickly moots of lights. The overhead stars here were bright and vibrant and many different colors that his augmented vision effortlessly picked out. They were- He had to wrack his brain for the proper word that was a rarity in all languages he knew. _Beautiful_. That was it. The stars were absolutely _beautiful_. 

Rictor, scared that he was getting second thoughts, said, “C’mon man. Let’s go home.” 

Turning to him, Star regarded his outline cast by the huge mansion that was a short distance away. “I know not that word either.” 

“You will.” The conviction in Ric’s voice was back and it removed any lingering doubts the alien might still have had. Two simple words but they suggested so much more; They suggested that most coveted of dreams Star had heard the Cadre rebels whisper in their closed groups over and over: _Freedom._  

He had fought the hard fight for others since he had emerged from the Source. He had bled and killed and been in pain for as long as he could remember. Was it selfish of him to want something different? 

 _Friend. Home._ Alien words but, very soon, that would change. Just as he had accepted the Cadre’s invitation when he had nowhere else to go, he would now accept what Rictor had to offer. He had failed the cause on his home world. Perhaps, instead of chalking it as a loss, it was an opportunity to take up another. He had been designed to embrace challenges. 

“Star?” Ric said uneasily and then cemented the alien’s resolve when he whispered, “...Gaveedra?” 

“Let us go... home, c _ompadre_.” Star joined him and Rictor gave him a grateful pat on the shoulder; his touch lingering before he pulled his hand back. They exchanged a glance in the semi-darkness before dropping their eyes at the same time. 

With a wistful smile on both their faces, they started walking back towards Xavier’s Institute.

 

* * *

 

~End.


End file.
